


Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Depression, Drug Use, Fade to Black, Hurt No Comfort, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tony hasn't cared for weeks. He's been numb.Maybe he'll find something to make him feel.Rachel and Jared sure seem enthusiastic.MIND THE TAGS





	Champagne, Cocaine, Gasoline

He smelled like sweat, and alcohol, and the gel he used to spike his hair up before he left for the party. The whole house smelled like booze and weed and expensive cologne and shitty perfume and sweat and vomit and sex. A large redhead guy was bent over a small, lithe blonde woman, both of them frantically trying to eat each other’s faces. Their sucking noises were loud, but not quite loud enough to be heard over the pounding music.

None of the lights were on- there were lasers, and flashing lights, creating a dark and chaotic atmosphere. This was not a party sixteen-year-olds were supposed to be able to get into.

And yet, sixteen-year-old Tony Stark was there anyways, ducking between the drunk and high and tripping adults around him. He was far from sober, cheap beer on his breath and a cup of something alcoholic, and maybe spiked, in his hand.

He was sure he cared if it was spiked. That should concern him more than he did, but he didn’t care. There was a hole in his chest, his entire being was hollow. Working on his projects, designing technology for the years to come, staying at home and watching movies, all his usual methods… none of them helped. He couldn’t laugh at his favorite movies, or dumb jokes. He couldn’t enjoy creating, working with his hands didn’t fill the empty space or chase away the numbness.

So he was there, looking for something. He wasn’t sure if he’d find it. Something would be found, although he wasn’t sure he’d like it.

A short- shorter than him- brunette pressed herself against him, practically curling around him.

“Hello, hot stuff,” she purred. Her eyes were half-lidded, sultry, smoky. Her breath smelled like alcohol and cigarettes.

“Hello,” Tony murmured back. The alcohol hadn’t helped. The drugs hadn’t helped. Maybe the sex would. Of course, if the sex didn’t, it would always be good to have a back-up plan…

“It’s getting a little boring in here, don’t you think?” She tugged at his hand, her red lips curling at the corners, so bold against her pale skin.

“Just a little,” he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He leaned in. She leaned up to meet him.

Her lipstick was a little smudged, and his lips were a little brighter. He swallowed down the rest of his salty drink and followed her, letting her lead him through the house and the dark hallways towards the front door.

Chill air hit their faces as they stepped outside.

“A little chilly,” she said, that red lower lip pouting out. Tony pulled off his jacket. He hadn’t taken it off once that night. He wore long sleeves underneath.

She looked good in his jacket, a hunger in her eyes and a smile on her lips and a sway in her hips. Who knew where they were headed.

A tall, broad-shouldered blond guy with a spray tan caught up with them. The world was blurring around Tony, but he could tell that the stranger was  _ hot _ . And sleeping with not one, but two strangers, one of them a man? Well, that would piss his dad the hell off.

“Hey,” the blond guy said. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Well, she certainly isn’t acting like it,” Tony replied, leering at the older guy.

“Jared,” she simpered. “You keep telling me you wanna try a threesome.”

“Not with a guy,” Jared snapped. His eyes were dark.

“Maybe  _ I _ want a threesome with two guys,” she replied, her eyes narrowing. “Besides, you’ve taken  _ me _ in the ass enough times, what’s so different if it’s a guy under you and not me?”

“Rachel,” Jared growled.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Tony slurred. His step back was closer to a stumble, but he made it, raising his hands as he went. “I’ll find someone else.”

“Yeah, well, I want  _ you _ tonight,” Rachel purred.

“Hey, your boyfriend’s not down for this, don’t wanna get in between’ya,” he replied. Her hand darted out and grabbed his wrist, nails digging in uncomfortably.

“He’s already coming around,” she murmured, her tongue dancing across her lips while her eyes flicked over to Jared, who already had a dark interest burning in his expression.

“I’m not sure I want this, sounds like you’re already havin’nough troubles,” Tony said, trying to tug his arm away. Her grip was vice like. Jared strutted over.

“Nah, she’s right,” he growled. His gaze raked up and down Tony’s figure. The lust in his gaze was almost as obvious as the bulge in his pants.

Normally, Tony wouldn’t mind. But something about this couple…

Jared reached over and grabbed Tony’s upper arm. “I wonder what’ll be different about having you under me than her,” he whispered. Tony shivered.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun with us,” Rachel said. Together, the two of them led him down the street. The house they ended up in was only a couple down from the house the party was at.

He could have fought. He didn’t care to.

Jared shoved him up against the wall, kissing him. Jared was big, and blond, and buff. Holy fuck, those muscles. Tony had been up close and personal with a lot of nice muscles, and those would be towards the top of the list.

His lip was split by the time Jared pulled back. The bigger man had been all teeth and tongue and frenzied desperation. Large hands started running down Tony’s chest, warm and touching. His shirts were still on.

Jared fixed that. Tony could have fought. He could have. Aunt Peggy had taught him how to disable and run, how to take down people bigger than him.

He didn’t. Jared ignored the scars, running hands up and down Tony’s bare chest, pressing against his pectorals.

“I have had fantasies about this for years,” Jared growled. He licked Tony’s chest, Tony’s neck, took his mouth and slid his tongue in again. Tony let him. “Somehow the real thing is better.”

Rachel took over, although her hand lingered on Jared’s crotch for a few moments while she smiled at him, a dark, secret, hungry kind of smile. And then she was pressing up against him again. He was hard against her, had been hard against Jared. And he started kissing back. He might as well enjoy it while it was happening.

Rachel’s slim fingers were the ones that undid the button and the zipper on his jeans, her hands soft against his legs as she slid his pants down.

Jared’s eyes were blue. Hers were green.

 

In all honesty, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d made it back to the (empty) apartment. Rhodey was away- his father had been in an accident. He wouldn’t be there to find Tony stumbling in, his clothes somehow back on, his jacket still gone, the bruises starting to show, and not quite sober yet. His lip had swollen, and there were hickeys on his neck.

His chest felt hollow. His body felt dirty.

A dull ache filled him, everywhere and nowhere all at once, and yet one place in specific. He limped to the bathroom. Maybe, a shower?

He could still taste Jared and Rachel. He was- sticky. Their spit had dried on his skin, from where they had kissed, had licked.

The water was scalding hot. His shoulder were bright red, bright red like Rachel’s ass after Jared slapped it, bright red like Rachel’s lips.

Somehow, he made it from the shower to his bedroom, sweatpants and sweatshirt on. His skin was clean. He wasn’t clean.

The world spinned around him as he stumbled back to the bathroom and pulled his sweatshirt- his MIT sweatshirt, the too-big one, the one he had snatched from Rhodey and hadn’t given back- off again. He hadn’t put a shirt on underneath it. Their teeth had left marks. The rows of scars and cuts along the left side of his abdomen had been left untouched by Jared. Rachel had been the one to run her fingers over them, to lick them, to leave a few of her own there.

The blade was in his hands and scoring across them, cutting through them, before he knew what he was doing. His lovers were supposed to  _ leave those alone _ . They were  _ his _ . And she had touched them, claimed them, put her own there.

There were three long cuts, perpendicular to all the others, cutting across them all.

He had enjoyed the sex with Jared and Rachel. He  _ had _ . It had been good sex, Howard would lose his head when word of it hit the tabloids in the morning… later that morning.

His chest ached. He was dirty. His phone buzzed. It was not the first time. He ignored it.

He took another shower. This time, the water was ice cold, and he stepped out with pale fingers and shaking hands and shivering.

The hottest water the shower had hadn’t worked. The cold water hadn’t worked. Maybe it wasn’t strong enough.

His arm was red where the boiling water hit it. It hurt. He was still dirty, the water, it wouldn’t work, he couldn’t wash it off, how long would he be dirty for?

He didn’t want to be dirty anymore.

Nothing worked. Nothing he was trying was helping. Some small, far-off part of himself realized that he wasn’t sober yet- the buzz was still wearing off, the drugs were still there in his veins.

None of that mattered when he couldn’t feel clean.

It was him, but not him, moving his body, reaching out a hand to open the cabinet. If he couldn’t feel clean, maybe he could pass the fuck out and stop hurting for a bit. And if the pills didn’t interact well with the alcohol… no sweat off his back. Couldn’t care if you were dead.

Couldn’t care if you were alive.

He started with two pills. They felt too weak. They wouldn’t be enough. So he took a couple more.

He should… take them all. It’s not like he cared about living anyway. He’d been empty, numb, incapable of caring for weeks, even before Rhodey had left.

If there was anything that would piss Howard off more than another public, drunken, high party and a threesome that included another guy, it would be Tony offing himself right afterwards. Too much of a coward to face the world after screwing up again, huh? Too weak to face the consequences, to let a little funk get the best of him?

He took another few pills, and stumbled to his bedroom where he collapsed onto his bed. If he was going to kill himself, he might as well be comfortable while he did it.

Would… seventeen be enough to do it? Or should he take the rest of them, just to be sure?

He was already tired, exhausted, aching. His side was bleeding. He dropped the bottle on the floor, some of the pills spilling out. He was tired.

He curled up, pulling his blankets around him. His vision was fading. The world dropped away as his eyes closed.


End file.
